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Wendy Harmer

I turned 57 last October and I can’t seem to think about that age without putting “that’s almost 60” somewhere in there. Turning 50 was scarcely believable, but 60? That’s an impossible age. Other people turn 60, but not me, surely.

That feeling of inevitability takes a lifetime to truly understand. It’s a little like climbing a staircase, getting to a landing and thinking: “Oh, this must be it.’’ At every landing we linger and become accustomed to the view before we realise that, no, there’s another set of stairs to be taken and wonder what more there is to be seen. Of course, with every new step the view becomes more panoramic.

With the long view comes wisdom and a sense of calm. It’s in the little things, like being able to pack for a long trip without having to take everything but the kitchen sink in my suitcase. Trusting that I’ll land on my feet, like I’ve always done, and that these days I have money in the bank to cushion any fall.

Financial security—that’s something I’ve worked long and hard for. I look back and have to be grateful to my younger self for realising that this would bring me great peace of mind in future years.

The time and effort spent in making friends, tending to family life and accumulating business associates gives me a solid foundation. And rather than being stressed out that I can’t keep up with all the social obligations comes confidence that trusted relationships will endure. That I have people to call on in any situation, and that I am not alone. But more than this, I’m proud it’s now me others can look to for guidance—that I’m able to offer a hand to those coming after me, not just to my own children but to others, who say with incredulity, “But look at all the things you’ve done!” Starting a sentence with “Forty years ago I…” never ceases to amaze me. And soon enough it will be “Half a century ago...’’.

I don’t have a lot of time for those who trust the mirror to tell them where they’re at in life. Why bother with that narrow view of your face when the one that’s unfolding as you ascend is so astounding? So, here I go, one foot in front of the other… Upwards and onwards.